My daughter and I had been driving for days by the time I finally spied this tiny windmill. I flipped on the blinker and pulled to the side of the road. Emily's feet were propped up on the dashboard, her mp3 plugged into her ears, a cosmetic mirror in her hands. "Sure... why not... another windmill. Go ahead, mom. I'll wait here."
She had been waiting for me quite a lot over the past couple of days, and honestly I couldn't believe how patient she'd been! "You're the weirdest mom there is ... I think we've bonded on this trip."
Happy thoughts such as those bombarded me as I slid out of the truck and snapped away. She never minded when I stood for moments on end, soaking in the landscape, staring off into a distance I wished I could take home with me.
I knew that after we left this place, we would cross the Illinois boarder, visit my nephew in Deerfield and thunder toward western Chicagoland.
Don't you want to move here, Emsi? A roll of the eyes. "To windmills... really?"
I know the longing all too well. Whether one state away or one-hundred, there's no place like home... and Dorothy was talking about the midwest!
I hope it never changes.